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The Time I Was A Lazy Blogger

I have all kinds of posts to write, but no energy or drive to write them. A lot of things have happened in the last few weeks, but I’ve been working a ton of hours and by the time I get home and unwind by reading Facebook, looking at Pinterest, and annoying a stupid fucker on my G+ pirate game (a whole nother post), I just don’t have the gumption to write. I wish I could just tell you about them over the phone or the Youtube, but I’m too lazy to set that shit up, and I have fertilizer all through my hair and face most days, so I would look unkempt. I suppose I could wash up, but I figure that it will help me grow good thick roots for a luxurious mane and ‘stache in this year’s Movember race. Even if it doesn’t, it’s nice to be able to burn the fucking corneas out of my eyes by sweating it into them. Every day.

It feels like the time I sprayed dog repellent, that I had found in my bosses garage, on my fingers to see what it smelled like. The label showed a dog and cat and some bags of garbage, so I assumed it was like the stuff my grandma put in her flower beds to keep animals out (It turns out that that was wolf piss, so sniffing it off of my fingers would have been a bad idea as well.). After spraying it, I couldn’t see how that smell would keep a dog out of your garbage, but whatever. At thirteen, I didn’t care enough to look into it more, so shortly after it dried, I wiped the sweat out of my eyes with those same fingers.

Turns out that it wasn’t the smell that got them out of your garbage. The instructions, which I read after the pain subsided and I could open my peepers without the feeling of pins being slowly inserted in them, stated to spray into the animal’s eyes from six feet away. The ingredients were:

cayenne pepper extract

propellant

Could have used that info fifteen minutes ago.

One good thing was that it taught me to read labels a little more carefully, and to not rub my flaming eyes with contaminated fingers, so it wasn’t a total waste.

Where was I?

Oh yeah.

I’m too lazy to write.

It’s not writer’s block, because I have all kinds of ideas, it’s just that I want to shut my brain off at the end of the day. I guess it’s just that the desire isn’t great enough yet. They tell me that work will get slow in a month or so, so I hope to get a great boost then. Maybe I’ll even expand on all of my newfound creativity. Who knows?

Until then, there is this post that was published at Aiming Low yesterday. It’s about growing up and making mistakes, despite your parents trying to prevent that very thing. I’m sure that many of you had similar experiences as well, so maybe it will be something that you can relate to. If so, maybe leave a comment with a memory about lessons someone tried to teach you, but you went ahead with your plans despite their advice.

While you’re there, check out some of the other writers that have graced the pages of that fine site. There are some really funny ones.

Well, I make the pussy purr with the stroke of my hand, they know they gettin’ it from me,

Allow me to inform you that the pepper spray that the cops carry is way worse than silly ol’ cat and dog repellent. It’s kind of like regular strength versus nuclear reaction strength. You wouldn’t have made it past the sniff test without hacking up a lung. Just something to keep in the back of your cranium the next time you’re thinking about how cool it would be to kick that cop’s ass. Of course, nowadays, they are more likely to light you up like a Christmas tree with their pocket pack of hydro. That concludes today’s public service message.

Contrary to popular belief, I have never wanted to kick a cop’s ass. I’ve come across a few who needed it, but because I respect anyone who puts themselves in danger for my family’s safety, I would never even think about it.
Plus, who wants to get fucking tased? Not this hombre.
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